


The dangling conversation

by Adara_Rose



Category: Gotham (TV), Gotham (TV) RPF
Genre: Angst, Heartbreak, M/M, Requited Unrequited Love, Smaylor - Freeform, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 14:38:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12509676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adara_Rose/pseuds/Adara_Rose
Summary: And I only kiss your shadow,I cannot feel your hand.Because everything is smaylor and everything hurts.





	The dangling conversation

 

And I only kiss your shadow,  
I cannot feel your hand,  
You're a stranger now unto me  
Lost in the dangling conversation.  
And the superficial sighs,  
the borders of our lives.

 

 

This was it. Time to stop being a coward and face the music. Cory wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but surely it’d be all right. He hadn’t been imagining the way Robin smiled at him, or the way his eyes sparkled. He wasn’t alone in this! No way!

 

But still, here he was, pacing his trailer and trying not to bite his fingernails raw. He hadn’t bitten his nails for years, and this was _not_ a good time to start that habit back up again. It was terribly unattractive, and more than anything he wanted to be attractive.

 

He stopped by the little mirror and adjusted his hair for at least the seventh time, wondering if he should put on some cologne or something. But he didn’t usually wear it, since it didn’t fit when he had to switch quickly from himself to Nygma. Nygma didn’t bother with anything other than soap, so therefore Cory usually didn’t either.

 

The knock at the door was so gentle he probably would have missed it if he hadn’t been waiting. Drawing a deep, shaky breath, he went to open it. It was late, and the set mostly lay shrouded in darkness. But there was a gaslight on the side of his trailer, and in the dim glow he could see that Robin was wearing his casual clothes; he’d apparently stopped by his own trail to get changed after finishing the day’s filming.

 

They stood in silence for a few moments, taking in every line of the other’s face, as if trying to memorize his features.

“Can I come in?” Robin finally asked, an amused quirk to his lips, “you said it was important.”

Cory felt his cheeks burn. “Yeah, sorry, uh… come in.” He stepped aside, his treacherous heart skipping a beat when Robin slipped past so close he could smell his shampoo. _I want to help him wash his hair_ his brain sighed dreamily.

“Can I get you anything?” Cory asked nervously, trying to hide his indecent thoughts and delay the inevitable at the same time.

Robin leaned against the tiny table, which swayed dangerously under the weight. He really needed to get that table fixed, Cory thought before getting distracted by the way Robin’s shirt rode up. He wanted to lean in close, touch the pale skin, kiss his mouth… lift him up on the table and have him right then and there, making Robin scream his name in wild abandonment.

“Cory?” Robin’s worried voice cut into his fantasies like a sharp knife.

“Uhm… sorry, wool-gathering. It’s… been a long day.”

“Has something happened? You know you can always talk to me.” Well, that was the problem, wasn’t it? Robin who was always so kind and generous and patient and wonderful and-

 

Cory wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers.

“I... “ he wetted his suddenly very dry lips. “I… I don’t know where to start-” he stammered.

“The beginning is usually a good place” Robin teased affectionately, but his eyes were still concerned.

 

The beginning, right. Where did it begin? The first time his co-star had smiled at him, leaning on the cane that was a part of his role as Cobblepot? The first time they’d shared coffee? The first more than friendly smile? He didn't know. His heart insisted that he had felt like this his whole life, because he hadn’t lived until… until Robin. He tried to think of a beginning.

“Cory?” Robin asked again, this time clearly worried. He placed a hand on ory’s chest to ground him in reality. At that gentle touch, a wave of heat swept throuh Cory’s body and left him weak-kneed, light-headed and painfully aroused. God, what was this man doing to him?

He stared at the hand, burning him throuh the shirt, through his skin, through muscle and bone and down to his widly beating heart. If a simple touch was enough to turn him into this trembling wreck… god, to kiss him… just one kiss, all he wanted was one kiss… no that was a lie. He wanted a thousand kisses, then another thousand, and a thousand more after that.

“Cory?” and Robin was moving closer now, his hand not moving but his feet did, and suddenly he was so close they were almost touching. “Please, tell me what’s wrong?”

 

Cory opened his mouth to speak, but not a word came out; only a shaky, shuddering breath that almost sounded like a sob. He put his hand over Robin’s, pulling it up towards his lips, pressing a reverent kiss to the soft skin of his palm, then pressing it to his cheek in a silent plea for a caress.

“Oh, Cory” Robin breathed, seeing something in his eyes he dared not say, even though he had been planning this moment for days. Had rehearsed it more times than his lines. “How long?”

Cory didn't answer, because he didn’t know the answer. Forever, always, hopelessly, unendingly yours.

He interlaced his fingers with Robin’s, wishing he was a braver man. That he dared to kiss the lips he dreamed about, the lips hovering mere inches from his own.

They stared into each other’s eyes for what was an eternity and ended in an instant. Everything Cory dared not say was laid bare then, in his eyes, in his face, in the way his hand shook.

 

They stood in silence, frozen in an almost-embrace, lost in each other’s eyes and in the silence that allowed their hearts to speak.

 _‘I love you’,_ one heart begged.

 _‘I know, my friend, I know._ ’

 _‘Say you love me too’_ the first heart whispered, shyly, hopefully, but what it meant was ‘ _don’t break me’._

 _‘I can’t’_ the other heart sighed, aching and trembling, _‘I must’._

 _‘Please’_ the first heart pleaded, _‘please-’_

 _‘You know I can’t’_ the second heart chided, a drop of blood falling like a teardrop from an anguished eye. _‘I am another’s.’_

 _‘But you do, say you do!’_ insisted the first heart, desperate not to be broken.

 _‘No’_ lied the second heart. _‘No, no, no I do not.’_

 

Robin made a choked noise, somewhere between plea and sob, as he ripped himself away, stumbling backwards, shaking his head. As if he only denied the words, it wasn’t real.

“I’m-” he gasped out as he fled, “I’m sorry, oh god Cory, I’m so sorry-”

 

But Cory didn’t hear him, standing still as Galathea awaiting Pygmalion’s kiss, his hand still cradling the phantom of Robin’s caress against his cheek.

 

He didn’t hear the door close, didn’t hear the anguished plea.

 

His legs gave out slowly, like a puppet having its strings cut in slow-motion, as he sank to the floor.

 

He didn't hear the anguished wail forcing itself out past his lips.

 

All he heard, as scorching tears made their way unbidden down his cheeks, was the shattering of his dreams.

**Author's Note:**

> quote from Simon & Garfunkel's "the dangling conversation".


End file.
